


Through My Wires I Found God

by garyindistress



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garyindistress/pseuds/garyindistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heechul skypes with strangers on the internet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through My Wires I Found God

_Blame it on the rumba when it knocks you down_

 

“When I get bored I just listen to one song on loop."

“Yeah me too." Heechul props his leg on the desk and removes it the same second. He can't get comfortable for some reason. “I love love songs."

The guy has a raspy pack-a-day laugh, the kind that spins stories of his life to anyone listening. “I’m branching out. There’s this remix I can't stop listening to. It’s an earworm."

Heechul leans back but has trouble keeping still. A tremor courses through his body like he’s on caffeine, but it’s been like this for days.

“Do you like animals?"

“I had a goldfish called Teddy."

“Hmm.” It's almost midnight, and he's not even tired. Maybe he’s aging backwards. Maybe he’s been blessed with eternal youth while he wasn’t looking. “I think I’ll call it a night. Nice talking to you."

“Likewise. When’s the next time—"

Heechul clicks disconnect. His fingers can’t seem to quit tapping on the keyboard. The cup of tea by the mouse has gone cold, he realizes, when he brings it quivering to his lips.

 

 

Thursdays Ryeowook has hour-long lunch breaks and he sneaks his laptop into the bathroom to talk to Heechul. Heechul remembers this fondly as he pulls a couple strands of his hair straight just before his nose. He read in a magazine that this was a good way to check if you needed a haircut, whether your hair snapped easily when pulled. He thinks his is damaged beyond repair by now.

"...And then he told me to make copies of everything he missed last week. Can you believe his nerve? As if I were his personal slave! I mean, I know I look meek, but... Hello?"

Ryeowook is difficult because he requires attention, and Heechul is usually juggling several other mindless tasks. At the moment he is wondering how much bounce he has left in his hair while trying to smooth that one elusive wrinkle in his pajama pants. “I’m here. Just tell him to fuck off."

A thin sigh, like a whistle. “I said it in my head. I’m quitting—next week. Really, I am."

Heechul grabs for the pair of scissors and snips off a couple split ends. The hair falls onto his shirt, already static with cat fur. “You should. You’re better than that, you know. Or I do."

And Ryeowook softens, just like that. “You’re the best. I’m so glad we—met." he chokes on the last word not because of unadulterated emotion but because it’s sort of a lie. They _haven't_ met. Heechul isn't even sure what he looks like. The one photo he received was from years ago, and everyone knows webcams wash out faces like no other.

But if Ryeowook is being honest and hasn’t undertaken major dietary changes, he's a soft, flabby boy with an uncomfortable smile. Heechul liked how the light from the computer was reflected in his eyes though, so he saved the picture just to look at every now and then. It says nothing about his feelings towards the boy filling the screen.

He’s good at being nice if he wants to be. He’s nice to Ryeowook because being mean wouldn't give him any pleasure anyway. There are exceptions to this, of course.

 

 

It’s not like he doesn't go out. He still has a social life, if a bit dull and wearing at the edges. There are people who love him, and he takes advantage of their attention. Sometimes. Other times he's too preoccupied to indulge either party.

Donghae invites him out for drinks after work. “Cool, I’ll see you there at nine."

Heechul runs into the landlady holding a laundry bag when he turns the corner into the foyer. She looks like she's seen a ghost and he's it. He shrugs his shoulders up and down once. “What?" he asks innocently.

She tuts her tongue, chin resting daintily over the clean clothes. Dryer heat emanates from them, almost visible. “It’s good to see you out and about. Such a young boy, wasting away like..."

 _Ding_. “Well, would you look at that," Heechul smiles, slipping into the elevator. “Let’s continue this conversation later?" He waves goodbye to her narrow, disappearing face as the doors slide shut.

Donghae's invited his dorky friend Hyukjae for drinks, too. Heechul is enormously displeased but struggles to keep a friendly demeanor because Hyukjae is harmless despite being supremely irritating. But he can't help it; he was born that way.

“So what do you do, Heechul? Can I call you that?" Hyukjae asks.

“Maybe in another ten years," Heechul answers just before downing his third beer. He’s not a fan of Cass; it will always remind him of seven boys who deserve better. Donghae coughs and looks visibly hurt.

“Just kidding. Sure," Heechul amends.

They talk into the night, until the bar's emptied out and women leave with men they didn't come with. Heechul figures he might as well milk the most of this bit of human interaction since he's here already. At the very least Donghae is enjoying himself.

It's only when Donghae helps Hyukjae put on his coat, his hands lingering on the sleeve a second too long, that Heechul realizes what's going on and why he was invited at all. _You silly kid_ , he thinks as a lump magically lodges itself in his throat. It’s ridiculous how quickly things get to him these days.

“He’s nice," Heechul says after Hyukjae's called a taxi home. Donghae finishes waving goodbye before turning around, hands in his pockets. “You think?" His smile lights up the whole street.

“No, I kind of hate him—and you, for being happy."

Heechul still remembers Donghae as the kid next door who bothered him every day until he agreed to be friends. “Fine, only if you don't break my cars." “Who said I’d break them? I promise I won't." “Swear on Uncle Jang's ice cream shop." “I swear on Uncle Jang's ice cream shop." Grudgingly handing them over in a paper bag. A week later, Donghae crying on his doorstep—”But the wheels! They just came off, I din't do anything, I swear, don'—" and Heechul had hit him. “Those were my favorite toys. I trusted you with them.” That was how they became best friends.

 

 

Secrets.

One: his phone is never off, contrary to what his “yes, yes”s to his mother would have you believe, after her various and persistent warnings for him to “save battery, Heechul." He refuses, because so what, he is a rockstar. Okay, not really, but he plays a mean air guitar to Delilah.

Two: no one really calls, though. He just likes being prepared.

Three: he has to charge his phone like once every three days.

Four: he keeps it on while it's charging. Just in case.

 

 

“When it gets late enough, I pretend the day's stopped and just keep staying awake because it's like time-freeze."

Heechul's practicing shuffling cards. His fingers are slippery after trying out the new lotion his sister sent him in the mail two days ago.

Leeteuk works part-time at Lotte World dressed up as the “ugly dog prince,” according to himself. He sweats liters in the costume and takes abuse from preteen delinquents with pointy joints they like to angle into his privates. “It's a tough life," he's said before, usually followed by a crack and the hissing of bubbles floating up a carbonated drink. Heechul does video chat with Leeteuk sometimes because Leeteuk calls himself a visual person, but most of time they're not focused on the other. Leeteuk listens to the radio while he talks so the conversation's sporadic, but Heechul likes it better without the pressure to glue his ear to the screen. This way he can clip his fingernails over the desk if he so wanted.

“That sounds like The Matrix," is Heechul's contribution to the conversation at the ten-second mark. They average responses every fifteen.

Leeteuk shakes his head. Maybe. His image on the monitor is less than perfect, and Heechul only gets to see his right ear before his left.

“Are you even listening? It's nothing like the matrix. Sometimes, Heechul, you are very frustrating."

Heechul pretends he hasn't heard and waits the extra fourteen seconds before responding. “That's because we're only fake friends. If we were real I’d have a better shot at understanding your metaphors." He pushes his face into the camera and smiles sweetly.

Leeteuk laughs. He's always trying to exude youth. After hanging up Heechul lies in bed for another two hours. Talking with Leeteuk usually leaves him feeling lonelier.

 

 

If Heechul were ever to date again, he thinks Kibum wouldn't be a bad choice.

Kibum's this kid from the countryside. It shows in his smile, a little too big, but not stupid. Stupidly good-looking, maybe. But he's different from Donghae—he's cute in the way that Heechul has some difficulty resisting. It's a good thing there are miles of wires between them, then.

Kibum calls him “hyung" like they know each other. He doesn't talk too much—he waits for Heechul to respond before going on. He makes Heechul pay attention without meaning to. It's weird.

Kibum talks about moving to the city because he's got big dreams of becoming a somebody—”I think I can do it, hyung. You'll watch me when I show up on the big screen, right?"—and Heechul tells him it's not all that cracked up people make it out to be, big cities, that is. The streets are dirty, and you can't walk around picking your teeth with grass stalks, you know? Kibum asks, is that what you think of us country folk? I’ll show you.

Heechul is about to snort and dare him when Kibum pulls up his black wifebeater and Heechul gets a glimpse of the smooth expanse of skin, the well-toned farmer boy arms. “Sorry I have to change into something nice—going to town with that girl I was telling you about." Heechul watches idly as Kibum reaches for a wrinkled polo shirt hanging off the bedpost and pulls it over his head, gets caught in the neckline, and emerges with a pink face. Kibum is so rarely caught off guard.

Kibum's a keeper. Heechul's not deleting him off his contact list anytime soon.

 

 

When the call finally comes, he's in the middle of an alcohol-induced dirty dream. The phone feels heavy by his ear, so he turns over and rests it on the side of his face. The voice on the other end is nothing like all the others. He's sober in an instant. His heart—rises to his throat.

“Hey," it drawls funnily. “Hey, what's up."

“Nothing much. You?" Heechul checks the alarm clock on top of the desk. Almost 3 in the morning. “Partying without me, I see." He's joking, trying his best to be funny, even with that thing beating rhythms out of his chest.

Hankyung takes the bait. His laugh is breathless, beautiful, and he can't stop once he starts. Heechul remembers this laugh. He's smiling, too.

“Hey," Heechul says lightly. “We should hang out."

“How? I have no car."

Heechul brings his hand to his forehead and massages his temples even though nothing's hurting and nothing's wrong. “I’ll come to you."

When he's running around the apartment looking for his socks, several things occur to him that should've occurred earlier. One, it's very likely that Hankyung messed up his directions, because he isn't particularly eloquent, well, ever, and also, two. People break up for a reason. Maybe you've forgotten why (lie), but time hasn't. Time will make you remember, and that's the truth.

Outside he realizes, three, he's forgotten how out of shape he is. God damn. But he can’t stop running.

 

 

Finding Hankyung is a miracle, because there are five hundred Coffee Beans in Seoul alone and the only measly description Hankyung could muster up was “It's across from the Burger King and the lamp post with the broken light you know what I’m talking about we went shopping on that street once.” But lucky for him Heechul's got spider senses and is occasionally clairvoyant.

Heechul tries not to stare even though it's been months, and even Hankyung is looking bashful now that they've closed the distance, ashamed even. His face glows blue under the big Coffee Bean sign, and his hair's gotten longer. “It's really cold," he keeps saying, visibly shivering. “Can we go inside somewhere?" Heechul pulls the other sleeve of his coat over him and walks in the direction of a FamilyMart.

Heechul likes Hongdae for not sleeping. It reminds him of his university days, he thinks, but it also reminds him of being with Hankyung and having a reason to wander around at night. The streets are different when you have a warm pocket to stick your hand into and someone else's arm wrapped around your waist. Even if he never did it in public, it was nice knowing he could.

“You look good," Hankyung says when they're deciding whether to buy Pocky or beef jerky. Hankyung was saying something about being a man and eating raw cow, and Heechul was hoping it was the drunk in him talking. “Thanks," Heechul says after processing the compliment and deciding it's not worth dwelling on. “So do you. I've never seen your hair this long."

“Yours either. We match." That laugh again, it starts soft and then explodes.

“Hankyung, Hankyung, you're going crazy. I’m embarrassed. We're in a public place," Heechul barks at him, but even he knows he can't resist for long. The cashier is outside taking a smoke, anyway. Hankyung pulls on his arm, finds his hand, and leads him toward the Gross Canned Things aisle. He kisses him under the large overhead mirror.

 

 

The place they stumble into is likely to be dirty, overpriced, and, Heechul's worst fear, tacky. When he makes out a star-spangled patterned lamp on the imitation rosewood dresser, he has to focus on Hankyung's fingers all over him to keep himself feeling it.

Feeling that—it's the same, all over again. It's always been like this, wanting him so badly with just a touch of insecurity like a small dark lingering cloud. What if I’m not—what if he doesn't—what if we aren't, don't, can't. “Just shut up," he says aloud, and Hankyung is momentarily startled. “I wasn't talking." Too busy eating you alive. Trying to become everything with you at the same time.

The look in Hankyung's face isn't apologetic, his eyes are smiling. “It's been so long," he whispers before kissing Heechul's ear, his chin, his neck. Heechul nods, eyes closed. His head hits the pillow when he says “me too."

Heechul isn't a poet, but if he were to give his best shot at turning them, in this moment, into poetry he would say something about being buried in snow, soft snow everywhere, because on the one hand he knows, for certain and with all his heart, that playing in it will make him catch cold, if not chill him to the bone, but on the other hand,

It’s Hankyung, and Heechul's a fast healer.

“I want you inside me," he says.

And Hankyung's never been more succinct than when he says back, “I want to be there."

 

 

Heechul wakes up first, and he takes a shower and changes into the paper thin pajamas the hotel provided. He figures if he's spending the money he might as well use the goods. He takes a leisurely stroll down the hallway, not half as calm as he looks. It's also weird not waking up to someone's face on the computer screen every day. Usually Siwon's—this guy who happens to be a morning person. But Siwon's the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Hankyung wakes up an hour later, his hair sticking up in unflattering directions. Heechul doesn't even bite back his grin, he lets it shine this morning. He thinks it's okay to be happy right now.

Hankyung squeezes Heechul's shoulder once, firmly, before dragging his feet into the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth. They used to fight over ownership of the sink, Heechul remembers. He puts his feet up on the chair and tucks his chin between his knees, watching Hankyung's back as he slouches over the sink. What happened to that ballet-perfect posture? Where are the pointed toes? He wants to tease.

Hankyung cleans up and turns around and looks so much more tired than Heechul expected. He's aged five years since last night, even if last night happened mostly in the dark. “Do you need to—" Hankyung starts to ask, politely, and that's when the sinking feeling starts.

“No, I already brushed my teeth earlier," Heechul says, putting his feet back down on the floor. “Thanks," he adds.

“Oh, okay."

They get dressed in silence. Hankyung walks ahead of him down the corridor, pays at the window in the lobby. Heechul crosses his arms because he might start unraveling otherwise. He lets the fear reside in the enclave of his chest and fill it up.

Hankyung speaks only when they're both at the subway entrance, about to split off in their respective directions. “I’m... sorry."

Heechul goes on autopilot. He can't really hear his own voice saying “It's okay, don't worry about it. Go home, get some sleep."

“I’m so sorry, Heechul. I don't… remember."

“It's okay," Heechul is saying, and Heechul watches himself say it like a bird perched on the lone telephone booth in the corner. It's okay, I know it didn't mean anything, just go home, I’ll talk to you later okay? Knowing well that later turns into months, and the distance spans forever, it never gets better, it never gets easier, no matter what they tell you, if you love him.


End file.
